


Colby

by Tah the Trickster (TahTheTrickster)



Category: RWBY
Genre: Colby Fisher, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, RWBY OC - Freeform, White Fang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TahTheTrickster/pseuds/Tah%20the%20Trickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their name is Colby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colby

It took nearly a year’s worth of preparation.

The branch of White Fang on Menagerie didn’t agree with Colby’s plan initially, saying that it was needlessly violent, but after several persistent months they reluctantly began arranging for the supplies to be smuggled into their hands.

A new syringe and a set of sterile needles began appearing monthly at Colby’s home. Those who silently agreed with the White Fang turned a blind eye. They didn’t know what they were for, and as far as they were concerned it wasn’t their business.

The Dust was easier to get ahold of. During their long, back-breaking shifts at the mine, Colby would snatch up the tiny red crystals that normally went discarded, jamming them into their pockets, and working red Dust powder into their hyena ears to brush out into a bowl later. Presumably nobody dared to steal from a Schnee dust mine, so nobody bothered checking them after they left the mine each day.

Then, at home, Colby would crush the crystals into powder, dust off their ears, and dissolve it all into a saline solution to fill their syringes.

Their first injection put them down with a fever for a week. The second gave them fever for a day. Then they got used to the burning.

The White Fang would check in on them occasionally to verify their progress. The track marks on their right arm spoke volumes more than they ever could. They’d ask Colby each time if they were sure they wanted to go through with it. Colby would just stare them down till the White Fang relented, once more thanking the young faunus for their sacrifice. Textbooks, they assured them, would know Colby’s name, whether the plan worked or not.

Colby couldn’t be satisfied with merely being known. The mine had to go down with them, that torturous back-breaking monument to the Schnee’s vanity. They would all know their name. They would all know the humans’ cruelty.

They ramped up the injections. Colby could feel the Dust burning them from the inside, and continued them nonetheless.

That December was one of the coldest on record. Colby didn’t feel a thing.

The White Fang gave them one more chance that month to back out. One final opportunity to forgo their plan, to accept medical treatment from one of the Fang’s medics to clear the Dust from their system, to live longer.

Colby merely informed them that they had no desire to live in a world where they had to continue breaking their back in a mine to pad the Schnee’s pockets while they lived in filth and rags.

The White Fang understood. Their ranks didn’t applaud Colby’s bravery. Somehow it seemed a mockery. They touched foreheads with Colby, rather; gripped forearms and bunted gently. A long-traditional gesture that the humans had tried to dissuade them from using, but still persisted. It felt fitting.

That night Colby slipped past the guards and walked deep into the mine, farther than they’d ever walked before. The mine grew darker as they walked, the guards more sparse.

Colby came to the very end of the mine and turned on their heel, golden eyes brilliant in the dark. They began to clap—slowly, methodically. The collision of calloused palms increased in strength, clapping harder—harder.

“My name,” Colby whispered into the blackness, hoarse voice echoing against the rough walls, “is Colby.”

Their hands slammed together once more, and then their world exploded in Dust and blood.


End file.
